Faodail
by The Readers Muse
Summary: "Never trust a man whose smile steals the breath right from your lungs."


**Disclaimer:** I don't own the "King Arthur: Legend of the Sword." Everything belongs to whoever owns them, my wishful thinking aside.

**Authors Note #1:** Inspired by the following prompts: "Never trust a man whose smile steals the breath right from your lungs." & "Maybe he was bitter and conditioned to expect the worst, but he was mildly surprised when nothing ended up on fire."

**Disclaimer:** post movie, canon appropriate violence, adult language, flirting, enemies to friends to lovers, wooing, drama, romance.

**Faodail **

Beatrice had been a lot of things over the years. Many of them for a lot of men. Things they asked for. Things they needed. Things she took for herself when the situation called for it. She'd been a mother to him. A protector. A champion. A savior. A dresser of wounds and provider of a kiss on the forehead when he needed it the most. But she'd also been a screeching harpy of a school-marm who would beat his arse with a willow switch if she figured he needed the lesson. Making sure he was fit to survive in the gutters by the time he was eight and angry and already spoiling for something more. _Something better._

She was also, apparently, something of a prophet. Finding one of her more memorable bits of advice proven painfully true as Goosefat grinned down at him. Holding court from where he'd sent his arse to the dirt. Too distracted to recognize the clever feint until it was too late and he was tumbling balls backwards.

_"Never trust a man whose smile steals the breath right from your lungs."_

He sucked in a bit of air between his teeth. Already missing what his ribs had felt like a minute ago as he looked up at the spring sky. Squinting at the brightness as the dirt of the training yard coated his tongue.

"Lose something, your majesty?" Goosefat taunted, good-natured but with an edge that reminded him of that moment in the cave. How he didn't think the man was actually going to strike him as he made a show of taking off his ring. How he'd been caught off guard by the strength Goose had put into it. And how star-bursts had streaked across his vision as his jaw popped. Cheek burning. Anger rising.

It had been the fact it was a slap that'd put his back up. A fist he could take. Same with a dagger thrust or a headlock. But the slap had burned through him like a flash-fire. Not realizing until it was over that Goose had played him like a fiddle. Making him think he was the one in control until his hands locked around the pommel and well- that was all the minstrel sung on that one.

_"My dignity,"_ he thought privately. _"For starters."_

Still, he couldn't deny he didn't love it. Since he'd been crowned, Bill had been the only one brave enough not to pull punches when they sparred. Skirting a dangerous line that oft made the others frown and shake their heads. As if he was somehow struck with delicacy now that the truth was out about who he was and where he'd come from.

"I'd apologize, but I expect this isn't the first time someone's put you on your back," Bill hummed cheekily. Extending his hand to help him up.

Then again, perhaps a bit of kingly revenge was warranted after all.

* * *

He'd already decided he was going to cherish the surprised look on Bill's face when he surged up and ploughed him into the dirt, for the rest of his days. Taking an elbow to the temple and then one between his ribs for his trouble as they rolled around the training yard, yelling curses. Taking out the stave stand and then George's table as people scrambled out of the way, hooting and hollering encouragement.

Maybe he was bitter and conditioned to expect the worst, but he was mildly surprised when nothing ended up on fire.

* * *

"Feel better?" Goosefat rasped, somehow still managing to sound smug as he flopped, exhausted, into the dirt beside him. Rubbing shoulders and a few other things as their chests heaved.

"Much," he admitted, turning his head to spit out a mouthful of blood. Every muscle worn out and aching in the best possible way. Wishing his brain was as sated as his body as it forced him to consider everything in context. Everything he'd been trying to avoid over the last few months. Things like how Bill always seemed to know what he needed. How he picked at him like a scab day in and day out and somehow ended up making him better come the other end. How the castle seemed stifling and dead boring whenever the man disappeared for days on end. Doing gods know what. _Risking_ gods know what. _For him._

"What are we doing, Bill?" he asked softly, slinging an arm over his eyes as the English sun gave its late summer's best. Shining brightly despite a cover of clouds edging in from the western horizon.

There was silence for a long moment, before the man spoke.

"Pulling each others pig tails, I believe."

He snorted. Pleased that Goose had said it so plainly. A lesser man would have back-stepped. But not Bill.

"Downright flirting is what we're doing," he returned. Bolder than he felt but forever up to the challenge, so long as things were equal between them.

Bill made an affirming sound, spine stretching. Giving him a good look at the flat of his belly through the thin of his linen shirt. Looking thoughtful, but tense. Like there was more riding on this than a quick fuck after one of them let themselves be caught.

Huh.

Now _that_ was interesting.

"Dinner tonight?" he offered. "My chambers?"

Bill turned to look at him, one eyebrow quirked. Looking all kinds of filthy and even a bit bloody as the pulverized grit behind his head puffed at the movement. A black eye already well on its way to darkening as the man's expression made his cock twitch in his trousers.

"Just dinner, mind," he told him. Wondering who the hell he was kidding as Bill's smile only widened. Spreading out like a tom cat in a sun beam, confident and pleased with himself.

"Sounds lovely," Bill returned easily, shoulders warm against his.

And yeah, it kind of did, didn't it?

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. – This story is now complete.

**Reference: **

\- Faodail: lucky find.


End file.
